Complicit

by Unknown

  Guy and Joakim were wandering around what was really a theatre set that Sonia and I had created. Guy looked at the mail on the floor inside the door and flicked through it. ‘There’s nothing here for him,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t think he’s the kind of guy who gets much mail,’ said Joakim.

  ‘Everybody gets mail,’ said Guy.

  I wanted to say something but I couldn’t think of anything normal and noncommittal.

  ‘I don’t get mail,’ said Joakim.

  ‘I meant all adults – but maybe Hayden doesn’t count as an adult.’

  I had to force myself not to look. Instead I pretended to examine objects I had arranged.

  ‘The kitchen,’ I said suddenly.

  ‘What?’ said Guy.

  ‘Do you think it might be worth checking out?’ I said. ‘People keep lists there. To-do lists. Attached to the fridge with a magnet.’

  It sounded incredibly feeble and Guy seemed doubtful. I made myself speak in a lighter tone. ‘You could check out what he keeps in his fridge at the same time.’

  Even using the present tense took an effort. ‘Keeps’ not ‘kept’. As far as Joakim and Guy were concerned, Hayden was somewhere at this moment doing something. Perhaps he was just about to walk through the door. They were able to feel irritated or puzzled by him in the way you can’t feel about people once they’re dead. You can hate them or love them, you can mourn them, but you can’t be irritated by them, you can’t resent them. Guy looked very irritated indeed, muttering to himself as he made his way, slightly reluctantly, towards the kitchen. Joakim followed, probably out of a genuine interest to see what Hayden had in his fridge.

  I crossed the room and snatched the jacket off the chair. I looked around desperately. I didn’t have a bag with me and my mind wasn’t working clearly enough. I simply couldn’t decide whether trying to hide it was a foolish risk. I heard some noises from the other room. For lack of any other idea, I slipped the jacket on. I heard voices, getting louder. They were coming back. All that mattered was the first couple of seconds. I’d heard of experiments – if you were distracted, it was amazing what you didn’t notice. On the mantelpiece was a slim black vase, elegant, expensive and fragile. I took it in my hands and as they came into the room I let it fall. It shattered on the stone fireplace. ‘Shit,’ I said.

  The two ran forward.

  ‘What the hell was that?’ said Guy.

  ‘It was a vase,’ I said. ‘Oh, God, that was so clumsy. I feel awful.’

  Guy gave a grim smile. ‘Not to worry. If we dispose of the bits, it can safely be blamed on Hayden.’

  ‘That sounds terrible.’

  The two of them cheerfully mocked my incompetence as they found a dustpan and brush and swept up the pieces. They didn’t say a thing about the jacket. The diversion had worked. It was also because they were men, of course. If Sally had been with me, a hundred broken vases wouldn’t have stopped her asking where the jacket had suddenly appeared from.

  ‘So, are we done?’ I said, when the fragments of what was probably a family heirloom of Liza’s had been tipped into an old shopping bag.

  ‘I guess so,’ said Joakim, disconsolately, glancing at his father.

  Guy was still looking around discontentedly. I was feeling physically sick as I thought about what I’d done and what I’d almost allowed to happen. Sonia and I had rearranged the flat, adjusted furniture, removed evidence and then I had left my jacket on the back of a chair for anyone to find. If I’d done that, what else had I forgotten about? The fact was that there were just so many things that needed arranging, concocting, concealing, lying about, and I only needed to get one wrong. It was a matter of concentration, but what was the activity of mind that would allow me to find the things I had forgotten or omitted? It would stay like that for the rest of my life unless it all went wrong and everything was exposed. The prospect of discovery suddenly seemed almost restful.

  ‘You didn’t find anything in the kitchen?’ I said, trying to control the tension in my voice.

  ‘You know the funny thing?’ said Guy.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘What?’

  ‘The point about Hayden is that he’s a wild, spontaneous musician, right? He suddenly doesn’t turn up at a rehearsal and doesn’t trouble to inform us, and we’re supposed to think he’s left town, he’s back on the road, that he got some gig he couldn’t turn down.’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Did he really live here?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Of course he did. There’s a case in the corner of the room that’s clearly his, and I saw some shirts hanging in the wardrobe, among this Liza’s clothes. There were a couple of beers in the fridge – but it doesn’t look like the sort of place a rock-and-roller just walked out of. There’s no milk gone off in the fridge, no screwed-up shirts tossed in the corner, no old newspapers.’

  I made myself not reply, just concentrated on keeping my breathing steady. What was his point?

  ‘You know what I think?’

  I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak.

  ‘I don’t think this was sudden at all. I think he was planning to leave well in advance. The fact that he didn’t tell us was just his way of saying a big “fuck you” to us.’

  ‘Dad,’ began Joakim, in an angry, protesting tone.

  ‘He just thought we were a bunch of amateurs and he wanted to make sure we knew it. Doesn’t that sound like him?’

  I saw Joakim’s expression of hurt and betrayal. ‘It might,’ I said.

  ‘There’s one way to find out,’ said Guy.

  ‘What?’

  He didn’t answer, but began rummaging in the drawers of the little table.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Searching,’ he said mysteriously.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Well, where’s his passport, for instance?’

  ‘Why do you want his passport?’

  ‘I don’t. But I want to see if it’s here, because if it isn’t it means he’s taken it with him, and if he’s taken it with him, he’s gone off somewhere. End of story. Where else would he have kept it?’

  I followed Guy as he pulled open drawers, lifted up papers, even pushed his hand into Hayden’s jackets and trousers.

  ‘No passport,’ he said triumphantly, to Joakim. ‘No passport, no wallet, no phone. Face it, he’s done a runner.’

  ‘He wouldn’t do that.’

  ‘And,’ continued Guy, as he went into the bathroom, ‘no toothbrush, no razor. He’s gone, son.’ His face softened at Joakim’s stricken expression. ‘Sorry,’ he said.

  ‘You’re not sorry. You’re glad. You thought he was a bad influence on me.’

  ‘We had our differences. But I’m sorry it ended like this,’ said Guy. ‘I know what you felt about him.’ He put a hand on Joakim’s shoulder, but Joakim wrenched himself free and half ran back into the living room.

  ‘We ought to go,’ I said, following him. ‘He’s not coming back here.’

  ‘He left his guitar,’ said Joakim, pointing at the case propped against the sofa.

  ‘Is that his?’ I asked stupidly.

  ‘He would never have left that. He loved it.’

  Joakim knelt down, opened the case and drew it out. He stared at its splintered body and broken strings, touching them gently with his fingers as if they were flesh and he could heal them. ‘It’s wrecked,’ he said at last. ‘Who did that?’

  ‘He did, of course,’ Guy said. ‘Who else?’

  ‘No. You don’t understand. That would be like punching someone he loved.’

  ‘Yes? People do that all the time.’

  ‘We have to go,’ I repeated. My skin was prickling with dread. I felt I couldn’t stay another minute in this place, that if we didn’t leave very soon, I was going to say or do something terrible.

  I pulled the door shut behind us and went up the next flight of stairs to hand back the key.

  ‘Any luck?’ t
he young man asked.

  ‘He seems to have moved on.’

  ‘It’s probably not relevant, but I did hear strange noises coming from the flat.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I don’t know when, though. I just thought it was him and his girlfriend.’

  ‘It probably was.’

  Before

  There was daytime, when I scraped off wallpaper, met friends, sat in the park plugged into my music, or shopped. There was nighttime, when I lay in the darkness with Hayden, the headlights from cars striping the ceiling of the bedroom where we clung to each other, inflicting pleasure. These were different worlds and it seemed as if there was no connection between them. Feeling glazed and unreal, I would look at myself in the mirror and scarcely recognize myself. Sometimes I was scared, but not scared enough to stop.

  ‘I nearly went out with Neal.’

  I was sitting in Sonia’s car, and she was driving me to her sister’s house in a village in Hertfordshire, where we were going to have lunch and then pick strawberries at a pick-your-own farm nearby. It was Sonia’s idea – it wasn’t the kind of thing I would ever have thought of doing. She said she was going to make jam for all her friends this year.

  ‘I know,’ she said.

  ‘You know?’

  ‘I guessed.’

  ‘Was it so obvious?’

  ‘Yes. To me, anyway. The way he stares at you, follows you with his eyes. So why didn’t you?’

  ‘I didn’t feel right about it,’ I said. I wanted to talk to Sonia but not mention Hayden; wanted to tell her without telling her; wanted her advice without her knowing what she was advising me about.

  ‘He’s nice.’

  ‘Too nice, maybe. Too eager. He’s the kind of guy you always call when you want something fixed.’

  ‘Is that such a bad thing?’

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  ‘You mean there’s something in you that’s drawn to men who aren’t nice, sensitive, respectful, gentle like Neal?’

  ‘It’s not how I want to be.’ It was easier to have this kind of conversation in the car, with both of us gazing ahead at the road. ‘Why is it so hard to talk about?’

  ‘Is it just Neal that’s prompted this?’

  ‘Kind of.’ I watched the hedges, fields, cows standing peacefully together at the fence. ‘My father used to hit my mother. Did I ever tell you that?’ I knew I hadn’t – I never told anyone. Just saying the words out loud made me feel slightly dizzy.

  Sonia gave me a quick glance. I felt my fading bruise ache and a flush spread over me. ‘No, you didn’t,’ she replied softly. ‘But I’m glad you have now.’

  ‘I tell you things I thought I’d never be able to tell anyone.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Her voice was grave, comforting.

  ‘You won’t tell anyone?’

  ‘You don’t even need to ask that.’

  ‘Not even Amos?’

  ‘Not even Amos. It’s your secret, not mine.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So you’re scared of repeating the pattern.’

  ‘I guess. Yes.’

  ‘And do you?’

  ‘Maybe.’ I thought of his fist on my face. ‘I don’t want to.’

  ‘Yet I don’t think you’re the submissive type,’ she said. ‘In fact, I’d say that you’re the one who is usually in control.’

  It was my turn to look at her. ‘Have you been talking to Amos about me?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Sonia?’

  ‘He’s mentioned you. Obviously. You were with each other for a long time. You’re his history – he can’t not talk about it to me. I’m sure you can understand that. Though of course it’s strange.’

  ‘You and Amos…’ I paused, waiting for her to fill in the gap, and when she didn’t, I finished: ‘Are you properly together now?’

  ‘Do you mind?’

  ‘Why should I?’

  ‘We don’t need to play games. Amos and I…’

  ‘If you and Amos are together, I’m very pleased for you.’ Was I? It wasn’t that I wanted Amos myself, but there was something strange about one of my closest friends being with my long-term partner. Something almost incestuous.

  ‘And you really mean that?’

  ‘Really,’ I said, meeting her sceptical gaze. ‘I’m glad. Just don’t talk to each other about me, that’s all. I mean, do. Of course you will. Just don’t tell me about it.’

  At the end of Sally’s road I stopped. ‘I’ll go first. You wait for a couple of minutes.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘So no one knows.’

  ‘Knows what?’

  I smiled at him and kissed his lips. ‘Nothing.’

  They were all there, waiting.

  ‘Where’ve you been?’ asked Amos. ‘You’re supposed to be the group leader.’

  ‘That makes us sound like the Brownies.’

  ‘Where’s Hayden?’ asked Joakim.

  ‘Shut up about Hayden,’ said Guy, turning on him. His neck had gone puce.

  ‘But what –’

  ‘Just shut it.’

  Sally burst out of the kitchen bearing a cake. She had done something to her hair and was wearing lipstick. As she came towards me I smelled her perfume. ‘Where’s Hayden?’ she said.

  ‘Here I am,’ said Hayden, entering the room. ‘Hi, everyone. Were you waiting for me? Sally, you look very nice today. Why, hello, Bonnie!’ He gave an exaggerated start of surprise. ‘How are you today?’ His slow grin undressed me in front of everyone.

  ‘Let’s get on,’ I turned away from him. Neal was looking at Hayden and then at me. It was as though I could actually see the knowledge enter him like a poison. He knew. And, as our eyes locked, I could see that he realized I had understood this.

  ‘Who wants cake?’ asked Sally, brightly. ‘Coffee and walnut. Bonnie?’

  ‘Not just now.’

  ‘I’ll have some,’ said Hayden. He took a large piece and put half of it into his mouth, chewing and then swallowing it as everyone watched him. He licked his fingers.

  ‘Neal?’

  ‘No.’ His voice was soft and tired. I turned away so I wouldn’t have to see his face but I sensed his eyes on me.

  ‘What have you done to your face?’ Amos asked.

  ‘It’s nothing,’ I said lightly.

  ‘You should see the other guy,’ Neal said. It was meant as a joke but it came out too loud and harsh. There was a silence.

  ‘I fell against the bathtub,’ I said. ‘It hardly even hurts any more.’

  ‘It’s yellow.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Shall we start?’ Joakim was tuning his fiddle. Its pure high notes hung in the room.

  ‘Ready, Sonia?’ I asked.

  She nodded and let her arms fall to her sides, palms turned slightly outwards in her singing position.

  ‘Sonia’s going to show us how “It Had To Be You” should be sung,’ I said.

  ‘She has a voice like smoke and velvet,’ said Hayden.

  ‘Why, how nice of you, Hayden,’ Sonia said ironically.

  ‘Very sexy.’

  I could feel Amos bristling in the corner. The room seemed clammy. Out of the window I could see Richard and Lola in the garden. He was dead-heading the roses and she was squatting on the ground, peering intently at the soil. It looked so cool and clean out there, away from the hot, thick air inside. My hands were damp and little drops of sweat ran down my chest. I wanted to be somewhere far away, somewhere green and peaceful and empty of squabbling people.

  ‘On the count of three,’ I said. ‘Let’s channel some Billie Holiday.’

  After

  The phone rang loudly beside me, jolting me from crowded dreams. Still only half awake, I put out a hand, found the phone and brought it to my ear. ‘Yes?’ I said.

  ‘Bonnie, it’s me. Sally.’

  ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Just before seven o’clock.’

  ‘What’s wrong? Is Lola OK?
’

  ‘I’ve phoned the police.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I told them I wanted to report Hayden missing.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because he’s missing.’

  I tried to think clearly and make myself react as an ordinary person would. ‘Not missing in a phone-the-police way, Sally. We checked his flat. He’s probably just moved on.’

  ‘I’ve done it now. I can’t undo it. Will you come with me?’

  I couldn’t come up with a convincing excuse to get out of it. Perhaps it would be useful to be there and hear what Sally had to say. After I’d hung up, I tried to think. My brain felt like a wheel turning uselessly in mud, deeper and deeper. Sally had gone to the police. What did that mean? Would they start investigating Hayden’s disappearance or simply dismiss her worries as the hysterical suspicions of an infatuated woman? Would they want to talk to people? To us? To me? And what would I say? Would they go to the flat and look for clues? If I’d managed to leave my jacket there, hung casually over the back of the chair, what else had I left, overlooked, forgotten, mismanaged, slipped up on? Were my fingerprints on everything? Had he told people about us? I thought I’d covered everything up but I suddenly realized I was absurdly deluded. Clues would surface that I couldn’t even imagine. Single strands of hair could be enough to convict someone. My hair would be on his pillow, my sweat on his towels, on his sheets, my fingerprints on his mugs and glasses, my image on a CCTV camera somewhere. Maybe there’d been a lens pointed at us when we’d slid Hayden’s body into the reservoir’s dark waters. You can’t go unnoticed. I’d stand in a line-up and someone I’d never seen before would point their finger and say: ‘Her. She’s the one. Yes. Without a doubt.’

  I told myself to calm down. What could they discover? As long as Sonia didn’t say anything, nothing could incriminate me. Could I trust Sonia, though? Surely I could. She was my friend. And, anyway, if she told anyone, she’d be incriminating herself as well as me. But someone else knew something. They had to, or why would they have sent my satchel back to me? My satchel full of all the things I’d left in the flat, and the necklace belonging to Sally. What did it mean? Something was happening and I didn’t know what it was. Things were waiting to ambush me, nasty surprises lurking round corners and behind doors.